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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442916">the prom night lament</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/danvernite/pseuds/danvernite'>danvernite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>14 Days of Quaranklaine [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, M/M, Skank!Kurt, Skank!Quinn, also gets high and drunk, also rachel and quinn are girlfriends and skanks together, blaine is just very sweet, both kurt and blaine are legal in this fic, burt makes a brief appearance, it's senior prom night, kinda smutty and explicit, kurt and blaine hook up, kurt swears a lot, nerdy!Blaine, skank!rachel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:07:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/danvernite/pseuds/danvernite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Day 3 of Quaranklaine, with the prompt "skank!kurt." In the skanks, there's one rule: never fall in love with a hookup. Kurt didn't count on Blaine Anderson though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>14 Days of Quaranklaine [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the prom night lament</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hiya lovelies! this one is a bit longer, because skank!kurt is so fun to write. There's a bit more smut in this one and I even made my own heart melt writing Blaine. he's just the loveliest! I'm a little behind, but these prompts are so fun! Massive shoutout to my friend Lex for letting me know about this challenge.</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy reading</p>
<p>- Ally :)</p>
<p>PS. Also there is a reference to a glee cast member, so see if you can spot it! ;)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When it came to being a part of the skanks, there was one golden rude adhered to since time immemorial. Never, under any circumstances, fall in love with a hookup. Kurt had been doing well at that, until Blaine came along. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blaine wasn’t his usual type. He was a prude, with his glasses and big curly hair and crazy bowties. He was book smart where Kurt was street smart. Based on the ranking of his peers, Blaine was a nerd. He didn’t drink and had never smoked a joint. He was as close to squeaky clean as you could get. However, he didn’t seem to object to ample time with Kurt behind the gym or under the bleachers. Kurt always seemed to get him hard, a fact he was very proud of and he had an obsession with Kurt’s piercings grazing his body. He seemed to love the way Kurt’s nose ring caught the nipples poking out of his unbuttoned shirt, moaning every time. And, he always without fail, made Kurt cum by sucking him off. For someone so nervous and dorky, he definitely knew what he was doing in that department, and the receiving party had no complaints.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a while, Kurt thought they were on the same page, until Blaine tried to ask him to prom. That had been a straight no. Since then, it just made things awkward. They still hooked up, but it wasn’t as frequent anymore. Blaine seemed fine with that, at least Kurt thought so and, unbeknownst to him, Kurt was already going to prom. Well, sort of, if you counted watching from the bleachers across the football field as everyone piled into the gym. That was what he was doing right now and he had no regrets about it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quinn Fabray took a puff of her joint and passed it to him, her dark pink hair practically glowing neon in the dark. It was him, her and her girlfriend Rachel. Every so often, they’d lean across him to make out and feel each other up, pouring heavy amounts of vodka and Coke into solo cups. Being the third wheel was the only downside to an otherwise glorious evening of debauchery. Well, maybe not. Because Kurt had been thinking about it for a whole ten minutes and thirty-five seconds, and he’d realised that, more than anything, some fucked up part of him wanted to dance with Blaine right now. This was unprecedented behaviour for Kurt Hummel, and it had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No, he couldn’t fucking think like that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rachel flicked the stub of her joint off into the dark and Kurt watched it fly before turning to both of them. “Do you ever think about going to prom?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quinn rolled her eyes, blowing another trail of smoke from her lips. “What are you, a fucking pussy? Of course not, Hummel. Us at </span>
  <em>
    <span>prom</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She picked up the vodka bottle, eyeing its contents. “Maybe you’ve been drinking too much.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Take that back, you fucking bitch.” He swiped at her playfully. “I never have nor will I ever be a pussy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What hair colour are you guys having next?” Rachel asked, and then that seemed to put an end to the conversation as Kurt tried to convince Quinn she’d look great with ash-blonde, a sentiment she didn’t echo. “I will never go back to being blonde, ever!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno, it’s not so bad,” Kurt grinned, pointing to his own quiff of bleached-blonde hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, if you like to look like old-school Eminem.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You told me it wasn’t even that bad! Fuck you, Rachel!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Soon enough, they were lying on their backs, looking up at the stars. For a whole moment, Kurt felt that maybe the world was wide enough to be a skank and fall in love, but that was probably bullshit. They’d never forgive him if he turned his back, and so many people had tried to get him to before. After his mom died, he and his dad just stopped talking and he still didn’t know why. The only other time they’d spoken since was when his dad had tried to get him to stop being in Quinn’s crowd, and that had gone about as well as to be expected. No, he wasn’t going to leave them for some boy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But Blaine isn’t just some boy, he’s Blaine. Blaine who cuddles with you after you fuck him, who actually wants to get to know you. Blaine who would never hurt you, even though you think everyone else will -</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was in way too deep. Sitting up so quickly that the blood almost rushed to his head, he slowly began to get to his feet, clumsily and with no clear motive. He just knew he had to see Blaine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kurt, where the fuck are you going? You’re wasted!” Quinn called out after him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“None of your fucking business Fabray,” he answered back. “Close your legs and go back to the celibacy club.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you, too!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you!” He laughed as he turned back to see her flipping him off. “I’ll be… five minutes!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was way too high and drunk to be doing this right now, but he figured it was worth a shot, if it meant he actually got to kiss Blaine in a non-hookup capacity. He was making no fucking sense, not even to himself, but his wounded little heart was on a mission. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he neared the edge of the field, near the gym, he felt his vision blur and his legs buckling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, shit, shit, just a little further, c’mon… just a little more…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything went black.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kurt, are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A familiar voice made him stir, and he opened his bleary eyes. “Where the fuck am I?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>None other than Blaine Anderson was peering down at him, looking like he didn’t know whether to resuscitate him or not, and then smiling when Kurt came around. “There you are. You fell down on the field. And uh…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kurt realised with slight embarrassment that he had indeed pissed his pants. God, he must have been way drunker than he realised. Groaning, he let Blaine gently help him to his feet. “Come on, I’ll take you home and get you a change of clothes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But Quinn and Rachel -”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They left you to sleep it off, I’m guessing. Come on, let’s go. Just tell me where your house is.” He let Kurt drowsily recite the address and then wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading him to his car parked at the end of the lot. Once there, he opened the door with one hand and guided Kurt into the passenger seat with the other. “In you go, good sir.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, he smells so good it should be illegal. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kurt allowed himself to really focus on Blaine for a minute. He was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, his hazel eyes catching the lights all around them, and shining bright golden-brown as he donned a sleek black tux fitted with a pink corsage in the breast pocket. His usually unruly hair was slicked back with gel. Kurt just wanted to kiss him and never stop.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Beautiful. S’beautiful ‘Laine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Kurt.” Blaine gave him a little half-smile that made his chest ache, but continued to keep his eyes on the road as he drove. “You don’t clean up too bad yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pissed my pants.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“True, but your outfit is very…” He cast a quick glance over, looking for the right word. “Very </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What a compliment,” he all but slurred. Christ, he was so drunk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, that’s why you stood me up, huh?” Blaine’s tone was still cheerful, so obviously he wasn’t too annoyed. “Official Skanks business?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Something like that.” Kurt shut his eyes, squeezing them tight against the pounding in his head. “Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think we’ll be too much longer,” Blaine replied. “Seems like you had a wild night, no need for a boring school dance with some nerd.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not - you aren’t a nerd!” Kurt felt the need to protest. Fuck, Quinn was right; he really was a pussy when it came to Anderson. “I mean, you’re handsome, I - I guess.” He let out a little drunk giggle and leant back against the leather seat; it smelled of mints or some funky-smelling soap, he couldn’t tell which, but so distinctly </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blaine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He practically nuzzled into the smell as the drive continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know anything else until Blaine gently nudged him awake with a gentle “Kurt, we’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, they were outside his house - and the fucking porch light was on at midnight, he realised after he checked the dash. His dad would bust his balls so bad for this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t we go somewhere else?” he groaned. “I fucked up asking you to bring me here - my dad’s gonna kill me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He saw that dashing face study his for a moment, then Blaine said, “I’ll be right back,” in the most determined Blaine voice he’d ever heard, and he’d heard lots of Blaine’s voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If he wasn’t so fucking trashed, he’d ask Blaine to kiss him. That was all his insides were screaming to do. Well, he’d fucked that one up. Blaine was gonna get him on the porch, then drive away and never look back. Kurt was a mess and he wouldn’t blame Blaine if he never wanted anything to do with him ever again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, the door opened again and he said, “I told your dad we were having too much fun but someone spiked the punch, and you were… a lightweight. I hope that’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck? Does my dad think we’re dating now?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Why the fuck would you tell him that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you have any better ideas?” Blaine rolled his eyes, then leaned in and took his hand. “Come on. I’m gonna get you inside.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My dad knows I’m with the skanks, dumbass. Your Kurt-got-a-wittle-dwunk story ain’t gonna fly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just trust me, okay? He seemed quite convinced.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they crossed over the threshold, Kurt’s stomach was rattling. Burt Hummel got up from the living room and came out into the hallway, brow furrowed. “Hey, kiddo. You look like hell. Thanks for dropping him off, Ben.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Blaine, sir.” Blaine shook his hand with a free one and kept an arm tight around Kurt with another, flashing a 100-watt smile that made Kurt want to puke but also made his heart soar at how adorable Blaine was being right now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then he did puke, all over Blaine’s polished black shoes. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, ‘Bla’, I really am.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kurt, you are drunk. It’s okay, it happens.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were in Kurt’s room, and he was getting him a glass of water and two Tylenol, now in socks. Kurt had no idea why he was staying, but as long as his dad didn’t get ideas, it was fine for now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you helping me?” he croaked, as Blaine helped him into bed, tucking in the sheets and adjusting the glass on his nightstand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you’re a good person, Kurt. You’re my friend, I guess, if you want to describe what we do as friendly.” He swore Blaine was blushing, even through his hazy eyes. “And I dunno, you were the first cool kid who ever wanted to hang out with me. That counts for something, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm.” Kurt had never thought of it that way before, but he guessed that was probably true. He was feeling a little more drowsy and a lot less drunk now; his speech was clear as he asked, “What are we, Blaine?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just told you, Kurt. We’re friends.” Blaine was still fiddling with the sheets even though Kurt was certain they were about as tucked in as could be. There was suddenly an awkward tension in the room, but Kurt had to know. “Really, because… it never feels like that when I blow you, or when we cuddle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought that was what you wanted.” Blaine looked him full in the face, and Kurt read something in his eyes he couldn’t quite pin down, a cross between hope, longing, and trying to play it cool. Or maybe he was imagining it. No, he wasn’t. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He knew Blaine had a crush on him, had known it since the very first blowjob, the very first kiss they’d ever had. There had been something so sweet and pining about it. But Kurt was sure he’d never felt the same… until now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So, he decided to cross the line and commit the utmost cardinal sin of the skanks. Sitting up, he leaned over until he was a few inches from Blaine’s mouth. “What if I want more?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kurt,” he whispered. “What about what you said?” He sounded so shocked it was almost cute.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Screw that. I found something better.” He reached out and wrapped an arm around Blaine’s neck. “I’ve been thinking about something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” The other boy sounded like he was nervous, like before they fucked the first time, but this time was different. Kurt didn’t just want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>anymore. He wanted it all, and damned anyone who stood in his way. For now, it was just him and Blaine and breaking the rules didn’t seem so bad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He drew Blaine into a kiss, and finally, he felt like he was whole for the first time in a while. Breaking it gently he whispered, “Sorry if you think I’m drunk - I mean I am but -”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was abruptly cut off by Blaine swooping in to kiss him again, deeper and longer this time, reaching his hands into Kurt’s hair and stroking it gently. Kurt moaned in response and Blaine took that as a sign of encouragement. Pushing Kurt gently onto the bed, he practically straddled him, kissing him again and again in between groans of “You’re so beautiful,” and “God, I like you so much, Kurt.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, that was the first time they’d spent together that didn’t escalate into sex and Kurt was fine with that. When he woke up in the morning, Blaine was gone, but a note was left on the nightstand and Kurt couldn’t help the dopey shit-eating grin that spread across his face as he read it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dinner this Saturday? My treat.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Circle y/n</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>B.A. :)!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>PS: If yes, I’ll see you at six. Take a picture and send it to me at this number.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d included his phone number too, and Kurt felt something in his heart jump as he texted back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Done and dusted! And just so you know, I won’t stand you up this time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>- K.H.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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